The song.

[Zock the Sock]

As a small bell chimes, a dove comes to it's call. The bird had the color of snow and had no specks of dirt or impurities to desecrate the beauty that was the bird's feathers. The dove perched itself upon the silver arm of a tree, to sing along with the the bell. Together, their song was enough to call forth another bird, nearly identical to the dove. The newcomer was also white, but had young and curious coal for eyes. It began to join in on what seemed like a celebration.
The moon above was fading into the dark blue. Wind began to pick up, shaking the silver tree that held the birds. Golden leaves fluttered into the abyss below. Slowly, the shadows from the abyss began to crawl up the body of the tree. As it was being overcame by darkness, it began to fade like everything else.
The bell was growing quiet but the birds continued. This was to be their last song.
The bell stopped abruptly.
The birds continued.
The bell let out a last weak chime.
The birds continued.
The bell fell from it's suspended place.
The birds watched the bell fall into the abyss, but continued to sing.
This was not a song of celebration.
It was of mourning.
They had lost their world to the evil that corrupted it. No longer did the angels that once protected them return to help them. The angels that were the color of snow, their wings the sky, the eyes the richest gold, and the voices of bells.
The only thing left was to fly into nothing together until their wings grew tired.
And so they did.